


Desafortunado

by flugantamuso



Category: New World Zorro
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flugantamuso/pseuds/flugantamuso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diego's luck can't last forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desafortunado

An act of God should call for a truce, Diego thinks wearily as he saddles Toronodo, who shies away as if he knows what’s going to happen.

Even his horse is smarter than he is.

Felipe appears on the stairs with a cup of hot tea, willing to help as long as he isn’t going to be the one going out in the neverending rain.

The first time that Diego can remember a torrential rainstorm sweeping through the area was a year into his Zorro stint. He did the sensible thing: curled up with a book next to a fire and waited it out.

Unfortunately, the alcalde took the opportunity to surreptitiously move a herd of confiscated cattle into the next county, where they could be safely sold with the profits going straight into his own pockets.

When Zorro discovered this the day after the storm, he had to singlehandedly drive the cattle back through the mud. They didn’t want to come, and Toronodo made a pathetic cattle-horse. It’s an experience that neither of them wants to go through again.

Thus every time it rains, approximately every two years, Zorro rides forth to prevent the illegal sale of cattle. Or any other nefarious deed that is being performed, though why anyone would want to perform a nefarious deed in the middle of what might well be the apocalypse is beyond him.

Apocalyptic. Rain is usually taken to be a blessing in this part of the country, and Diego would be glad to bless the rain from the safety of his bedroom. From the back of Toronodo, both of them cold, miserable, and soaked to the skin, it looks more like the first wave of an invasion from hell, because hell is not, in fact, hot, but wet.

It isn’t always this bad, but it hasn’t rained, really rained, in four years, which means that they were due for something big.

If only big had actually been big, rather than simply long. It’s been raining for two weeks, and if it lasts any longer Zorro may be permanently retired, no matter how many irritable cattle put money in the alcalde’s greedy little hands. Zorro rides once a day now, or sometimes once a night. As long as some of the alcalde’s men have seen him he knows that the message will be heard.

Ramon luckily doesn’t know how much Zorro detests the rain. If he did he might laugh himself sick. Zorro, unbothered by bullets, swords or men at arms, but defeated by a little water.

It’s at this point that Diego has to remind himself that two weeks of rain qualifies as an act of God, because it’s okay for Zorro to be defeated by an act of God. Except that the alcalde appears to be perfectly happy with the rain, which defeats the whole argument.

Felipe hands him the tea and a canteen that should be filled with hot cocoa, but at this point Diego sincerely hopes is alcohol. For medicinal purposes, of course.

For the first few days, Felipe gave him a little grin when he went out that made him homicidal enough to be glad that he was leaving the hacienda. But the humor of the situation has worn thin even on those who don’t have to brave the elements, and so he only tilts an eyebrow, questioning Diego’s choice of attire.

True, blue pants aren’t Zorro’s usual mode of dress, but all of his black pants are still wet, even after hanging in front of a fire all day. Diego doesn’t wear black, and so Zorro has to do his own washing, unless he can get Felipe to help him. Usually it’s not that difficult, just a few sets of clothing that only get worn a few times a week, but when it rains drying can be difficult. Diego thinks (hopes) that the lancers won’t notice his blue pants from a distance, though with all the rain, soaked blue pants will probably look black anyway.

The clothing problem is part of the reason that he’s taken to going out at night, despite the cold. The other part is his father, who is even more irracible than usual, being cooped up in the house. Diego can usually count on being ignored if he picks up a book, but lately his father has taken to following him around into the deserted corners of the house that he claims as sanctuary, starting arguments, board games, trying to connect in ways that leave Diego bewildered. Diego is perfectly satisfied with his books in a way that his father, hampered by the rain from his usual activities, cannot understand.

So he goes out at night and naps during the day. His father will shake him awake with a frown on his face, ‘I don’t understand how you can sleep so much. If it wasn’t raining so hard I’d send for Doctor Hernandez.’

Diego is tempted to say that he wouldn’t sleep so much if it wasn’t raining so hard, but that would just confuse his father even more, so he bites back the comment and hauls himself up to play a game of chess.

If this weather continues for much longer he’s going to become a much better chess player than he ever was before, though he has trouble winning the game when he falls asleep at the board.

He’d like to go into town, he misses Victoria terribly, but she’s probably busy with visitors trapped at the tavern until the rain passes, and he isn’t the one that she wants to see, anyway. Although it would give him an excuse for his father when he finally gets the inevitable cold.

He can feel it coming on, two weeks of daily riding in the rain will do that. Even Toronodo is getting a little snuffly, looking at him reproachfully, even though Diego tells him that it’s impossible for a man to pass a cold on to a horse.

At this rate it won’t matter if the rain stops tomorrow or next year, it will still have been Zorro’s downfall. Even if he’s capable of riding at that point, he thinks that wiping snot on his leather gloves and hacking like something that’s throwing up it’s stomach will be a small clue as to his true identity.

He, err, Zorro, has had colds before, but he usually kept a fairly low profile during those times. Luckily there were no disasters that would require his presence. Diego knows that he has been incredibly lucky, and that it can’t last. One of these days he’ll be doging a bullet and get so caught up in a sneeze that he’ll end up skewered on the end of the alcalde’s blade. Or, if he’s lucky, it’s only his identity that will be revealed, and after the hacienda is razed and his father is dragged off in chains, he can live in the hills like a wild-man, riding his unshaven and incredibly dirty self into town to thwart the alcalde when the situation demands.

Will Victoria still want him when that happens?

It’s not a path that he allows his mind to wander down very often, but riding hunched into his cape, his hat less for style than for the minor protection it provides from raindrops, he can’t help but be a little depressed.

There’s a shout from ahead of him and he whirls Toronodo around, mission accomplished. The lancers will alert the Alcalde, that, yes, Zorro is actually patrolling the area, insane creature that he is. Sadly, Ramon will probably already be in bed, having learned that Zorro makes a point of showing up on rainy nights, but at least Diego can return home to his warm bed secure in the knowledge that no wrongdoing will be done tonight.

He lets Toronodo gallop for a few more paces. They’re not being followed, but he prefers to put some distance between them and the lancers before he lets Toronodo settle down to his usual walk, picking his steps carefully in the mud. Toronodo slows to a trot, and suddenly stumbles, twists, and for the first time in several years, Diego finds himself being heaved out of the saddle. It’s his own fault for not having a better grip, but it’s raining, and he wasn’t paying sufficient attention. He picks himself up slowly, cursing in a way that only Toronodo has ever heard him do.

Luckily it’s not that serious, only a thrown shoe, but it means that Diego’s going to be walking back on foot, which causes another bout of cursing before he realizes that he’s surprising even Toronodo, who has his ears back in astonishment.

At least, he thinks, things cannot get any worse.

But that’s before they’re set upon by bears, and lightning strikes the tree in front of them, making Toronodo rear onto his hind legs, and never mind the pesky little man hanging on to his reins.

So Diego is left with no horse, no hat (because it fell off at some point during the bear attack), and no alcohol, not even for medicinal purposes.

And that’s before he falls off the cliff.


End file.
